1 Dog Collar Crime (26 page)

“Did you get a look at the driver?” he asked.

“No. You?”

“No. He turned his head when they got close. I didn’t recognize the guy in the passenger seat either.”

Insanity. With the million cars in this city, they couldn’t get sidetracked worrying about which ones held dognappers. “I think we’re being paranoid. Lots of people drive Cadillacs in this neighborhood.”

“It’s not paranoia. It’s caution.”

“Fine.” Lucie planted her feet until Otis realized he wasn’t going anywhere and stopped tugging. “Let’s be cautious while we’re walking then. This is our chance to make up the time we lost earlier.”

“You have your stun gun?”

She patted her shoulder bag. “Yep.”

“Keep it handy. I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going? We’re late.”

But he was already running toward the back of the house. “Start walking if you have to. I’ll catch up. Fry anyone who comes near you.”

* * *

Frankie hauled ass in a way that reminded him of trying to beat the throw to home plate. His heart pounded, his breath hitched and the euphoria pushed him to move faster. If only he didn’t have dress shoes on. He cut through the Lutzes’ backyard to the other block. With any luck, the Caddie would hook another right onto this street and he could get a look at the driver.

Bursting through the neighbor’s yard, he cruised by the house and hit the sidewalk. The Caddie came around the corner.
Yes
! He ducked in front of a parked car and listened for the Caddie drawing closer.

When he heard it a few feet away, wanting the element of surprise, he jumped up, drew the attention of the driver and stared right into the face of Neil the blockhead.

Son of a bitch. He knew something was off about that car.

Neil turned his head and pressed the gas, barreling down the one-way street.

Lucie.

Damn.

Frankie charged back through the Lutzes’ yard, his muscles straining for more speed. He hit the driveway at a dead run and instinctively made a left. Lucie, being a creature of habit was halfway up the block.

“Luce!”

She spun toward him. Otis, seeing him in a full sprint, started howling and leaped. Lucie tugged on the leash with both hands to keep the dog from tearing her arm off. “What is it?”

“Watch for the Caddie. It’s the blockhead.”

Frankie caught up to her and ripped the leash from her hands. “Get your stun gun ready.” He looked at Otis. “Did you pee?”

As if the dog would answer. He turned to Luce. “What’s his status?”

“Peed. Didn’t poop, but he’s about to.”

Frankie glanced down the street. No Caddie yet. It should have been there by now. Must have veered off. “Neil was driving the Caddie. He circled around to the other block and I saw him.” He pulled his cell phone from his jacket pocket. “I knew it.”

“Who are you calling?”

“Joey. He needs to get down here and help you while I ask my father what’s up with this guy.”

They finished Otis’s walk, keeping close watch for Blockhead until they jumped on scooters and headed to Buddy’s house. Joey met them there and Frankie headed back to Franklin. He had two-and-a-half hours before work, so he made a quick call to his father.

“I need to talk to you. In person. It’s important.”

“Now?”

“Yes.”

“Meet me at the house in an hour.”

An hour. That left plenty of time for him to grab a cab to the Lutzes’ and head back home.

Finally, a break in this dognapping mess. He would lay odds that Neil was behind this whole thing and the son of a bitch was going to fry. He’d make sure of it.

How stupid could this guy be? Messing with Joe Rizzo’s daughter. He had to be a world-class schmuck.

Well, schmucko, you are toast
. Worse than toast. A crouton.

Feeling smug, Frankie arrived at his parents’ house a few minutes early and used his key to let himself in. “Ma?”

No answer. Must be out. He marched into the kitchen, threw his keys on the table and spotted the morning’s leftover coffee sitting in the pot. After touching a finger to the pot—still warm—he helped himself to the brew. Last thing he needed was caffeine in his already buzzing body, but it was there, and why should he waste his mother’s good coffee?

The back door opened and his father came through wearing black pants with a crease so sharp it could have sliced iron. He wore a gray dress shirt, collar open, and his shoes were polished to a gleam as usual. His father never skimped on the details.

“You okay?” Pop asked.

All it took was that simple question and Frankie’s head exploded. No, he was not okay. He was exhausted and his father could get to the bottom of it with a few phone calls. “That effing blockhead. I think he’s behind these dognappings.”

Pop scrunched his face. “What the hell are you talking about? Who’s a blockhead?”

“Neil. The guy with the square head that I met at Petey’s. I knew he looked familiar, but I couldn’t figure it out. This morning, he cruised by Lucie and me when we were walking one of the dogs. You think that’s a coincidence?”

“Hey.” His father held up his hands and took a step forward. “Settle down.”

“Someone has been boosting these dogs to steal the collars and coats Lucie is making. And I think Neil is behind it. Why the hell else would he always show up where Lucie is when she’s walking the dogs?”

His father’s face turned to steel. Finally. He was getting the point and maybe they’d find some answers.

“Frankie, what are you doing? You can’t make an accusation like that. This guy Neil, he’s a good earner. You’re going to get him in a jackpot.”

Frankie shook his head so hard it should have flown off his head. Of all the crazy things. When did his father develop dementia? Maybe it wasn’t dementia, maybe it was something else, but he was not connecting the dots.

“Pop, listen to me. Please. I need you to look into this. I’ve seen that guy before. I’m not sure where, but I’ve seen him. The other day he wouldn’t look at me and he wouldn’t tell me his name. Why is that? He knows I’ve seen him somewhere he shouldn’t have been. And now, with him showing up at the Lutz’s this morning, it’s too convenient.”

A whistling started in Frankie’s head, and his father’s face went from cold steel to piping red-hot. Thank you. He was finally getting it.

“You’re out of your mind,” Pop shouted. Frankie’s head snapped back.
Whoa.
Never had he spoken to him this way. Beyond that, how could he not understand Neil was behind this? Or, was he trying to save himself because he’d lost control of a crew when Joe Rizzo put him in charge?

“Me? I am
begging
you for help. Lucie is in trouble. She’s carrying pepper spray, a stun gun and who knows what else. She’s already zapped someone with that thing. Sooner or later, she’ll get hurt. Do you want that to happen? Can you live with knowing you could have helped and didn’t?”

His father scrubbed his hands over his face. “How the hell did you get in the middle of this?”

As if that mattered. “I love her. I’ll do whatever I need to for her. Including going to Joe.”

There. He’d said it. Threatened to go over his father’s head.

Pop’s eyes turned black. Hard. Frankie shoulders flew up. It had been years since they went at it and the dread assaulted him like bad booze.

“Pop, all I’ve been asking for is help. If you can’t help me, I’ll find a way. Please, help me figure this out.”

Mom came through the back door carrying a grocery bag. She glanced at Pop then her gaze shifted to Frankie, and her face split into a smile. “Frankie!” She set the bag on the counter, rushed over and pulled him into a hug. “What a nice surprise.”

“Hi, Ma.” He hugged her, closed his eyes a minute and let her happiness settle him. No matter how old he got, he wanted his mother happy.

“You should have told me you were coming. I’d have made you a nice lunch.”

“It’s too early for lunch,” his father said.

“Still. I could have done
something
.”

“It’s okay, Ma. I can’t stay. I needed to talk to Pop and I think we’re done.” He turned to his father. “Are we done?”

Hesitation hung heavy in the air, and Pop’s gaze bounced between his wife and Frankie.

“Give me some time. I’ll talk to Neil.”

Frankie nodded. “Thank you.” He could have gone on about how he appreciated it and he knew it was a lot to ask, but that was stupid. His father owed him this. He owed Joe Rizzo this.

Frankie turned to his mother. “I owe you a dinner. How about Friday night? Just the two of us. We’ll go out somewhere.”

“I’d love that.” She turned to his father. “Do you mind?”

“No. Go have fun. You’re always saying you want more time with him.”

Frankie checked his watch. “I have to go.” He kissed his mother’s cheek then turned to his father. “Let me know what you find out.”

“Yeah, I’ll call you.”

With that, he walked out. No shoulder pat. No handshake. No nothing. Frankie wondered if he knew his father at all.

* * *

Lucie pulled her helmet off, shook out her hair and spotted Frankie standing in front of Rizzo’s Beef waiting for them. He stepped over, wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled her neck.

What a greeting. But something wasn’t right with him. His energy usually came in buckets, but now there was a heaviness she didn’t understand.

“You okay?” she asked.

“I’m good. Happy to see you. Everything quiet?”

Joey swung his leg over the scooter seat and stretched his long arms. “We’ve gotta figure out this dognapping thing. The scooter is killing me. These bastards weren’t built for people my size.”

She ignored the complaint and released Frankie. “What did your father say?”

“He’s gonna talk to Neil. See what’s up.”

“Listen,” Joey said, “this Neil, he’s dumb, but I don’t see him being subversive. He doesn’t have the guts to go against my father.”

Frankie held his palms out. “My dad says he’s a good earner. Somehow he’s involved in this diamond thing.”

Joey shrugged.

“Why else was he riding around the block at the exact time Lucie was there?”

Stepping closer, Joey glanced around at the pedestrians scattered along the sidewalk and, in a low voice said, “I didn’t say he wasn’t working for someone else. I’m saying he doesn’t have the cojones to do it himself. I wouldn’t be surprised if Mickey is behind this. He’s always resented my dad.”

“Why?” Lucie asked. They both looked at her. They’d probably forgotten she was there. Joey and her father never talked business around her and this definitely fell under the business category.

Joey remained silent.

“No way,” Lucie said. “You are not clamming up now. You’re talking about something that involves me and I’m entitled to know.”

Frankie and Joey exchanged a ‘we’re-stuck-humoring-her’ look.

“Mickey wanted to be underboss. Dad gave it to Frankie’s dad after the other guy…uh...”

“Lambed it?” she added. She wasn’t stupid; she paid attention to the news. Three years ago, the supposed underboss of the family took off for parts unknown to avoid a RICO conviction. The FBI continued to search for him, but he was doing a fine job of staying unfindable.

“Yeah. Anyway, Mickey’s been pissed off about it.”

“Enough to do this?” she asked.

Joey shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe he hid the diamond in the house hoping the feds would find it.”

Could be. Ro always said the guy was crazy. Rumor was he’d killed twenty-two people. Lucie didn’t want to mess with him.

Or the statistic.

* * *

Lucie walked through her mother’s back door and heard a male voice coming from the living room. She spun to Joey. “Were you expecting someone?”

He cocked his head to listen. “No.”

He pushed by her and right on his heels followed him into the living room, where their mother entertained none other than Detective O’Brien.

An immediate sickness slammed into Lucie as she locked eyes with O’Brien. He stood to greet them, his smile fast and loose. A man merely stopping by for a chat.

“Ms. Rizzo.”

“Detective.” Lucie slid her gaze to her mother, who remained seated and completely unruffled. Maybe this wasn’t bad.

“I wanted to check on you,” O’Brien said. “Make sure everything’s been quiet.”

God, don’t let him spill the beans in front of Mom
. To her left, Lucie was aware of her mother’s eyes on her. The woman, after years of being surrounded by law enforcement, knew this detective sitting in her living room might as well have been a neon sign signaling a problem. Lucie would have to fess up. Partially. She shifted to her mother. “I had a problem with one of the dogs. Detective O’Brien helped me.”

“Un-huh,” her mother said, and the tension in the room swelled. With no other options, Lucie faced O’Brien. “This is my brother, Joey.”